


Fragile, Handle With Care

by vodkawrites



Series: YOI Pen Pal AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Attempt at Humor, Canon Universe, Drama, Explicit Language, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Humor, LGBTQ Character, M/M, POV Alternating, Pen Pals, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Victor being Extra, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10889646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodkawrites/pseuds/vodkawrites
Summary: It started as a simple letter, an assignment for his intermediate Russian class. "Dear Victor", he wrote to his pen pal. He never thought it would end with "Love, Yuuri".Or; the Pen Pal AU where Victor and Yuuri are pen pals but neither know who the other person really is that no one ever asked for.





	1. You've Got Mail

**Author's Note:**

> Please follow my tumblr [@vodkawrites](http://vodkawrites.tumblr.com) for more updates, art, and other yuri!!! on ice content!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri writes a letter to his pen pal only to receive a surprise in return.

“And remember, your letters are due by next Tuesday’s class. Have a good rest of your day and I’ll see you all on Thursday,” the professor explained before ending the lecture.

Yuuri exhaled, content that he was done with his classes for the day. He collected his belongings off of the desk, shoving his textbooks and notebooks into his blue backpack and not caring if the edges of the papers became crumpled by his hasty motions.

“You ready?” Phichit asked, causing Yuuri to turn around. 

Phichit  Chulanont was Yuuri’s roommate, rink mate, and self proclaimed best-friend-for-ever.He was a fair bit younger than Yuuri and his features definitely emphasized his young appearance. He was shorter than Yuuri - which didn’t say much given that Yuuri was nearly six feet tall - but it didn’t help make him appear much older. His face was rounded with the slightest bits of baby fat which created dimples when he smiled. Not to mention his rather large round hooded eyes that could easily belong to any model in the industry. 

Unlike Yuuri, Phichit was rather outgoing and often flaunted about his hundreds of thousands of social media followers. Yuuri, on the other hand, was rather introverted, tending not to bring attention to himself in any sort of way. However, as different at they were, Yuuri couldn’t imagine University without Phichit. 

“Ah, yeah,” he agreed with a smile.

He stood from the small plastic chair, tucking the makeshift desk back under the seat. He wasn’t exactly fond of the poorly made desks at the University, but he supposed he should be thankful he had a working desk after all.

Phichit groaned and ran a hand through his dark hair. 

“We shouldn’t get assignments on the first day of classes,” he complained.

Yuuri followed his friend out of the small lecture room, skipping down one flight of stairs until the two reached the exit. 

“I know,” Yuuri agreed, lamenting over his lost free time. 

The beginning of the semester was often the time where Yuuri was free to skate the most, not worrying about countless assignments and exams that bogged him down towards the end of the semester. He was supposed to spend this extra time learning his quadruple salchow and add it to his free program for a larger base score. However, these early assignments only hindered his ability to perfect such a technically difficult move. Not to mention that the season was only two short months away and he was nowhere near performance ready on either of his two routines.

He supposed he would have to compromise and cut his practice short today in order to complete this assignment. After all, his studies did come first. 

“It’s not fair! I want to skate!”

He pushed the door open, revealing the main campus. 

Students were enjoying the warmth and freedom that accompanied the beginning of the academic year. Many students sat, leaned against tree trunks with their notes splayed out trying to start being productive. Others settled for throwing plastic frisbee a at each other, laughing as they desperately tried to catch the object as it propelled through the air.

Yuuri, however, was not enjoying this weather. 

He trudged behind Phichit, his feet dragging on the ground with each step. 

It was a bit ironic if he were being honest since he came from a town in the south of Japan. He should be used to, or even comforted by, the high and humid temperatures of Detroit. 

However, Yuuri wished the summer heat would dissipate into a winter breeze, calming him with its familiar chill. The cold had brought him a sense of wonder the warmth could never attain. As ridiculous as it sounded, he wished it would be winter already.

“This assignment is stupid,” Phichit continued.

“Aren’t all assignments stupid?” Yuuri quipped.

He fanned himself to create any extra sense of relief from the climbing temperatures. It was just after one o’clock and the temperatures were already unbearable. He couldn’t wait to return to his dorm room and sit in front of his fan for hours on end.

“Yeah but this one is extra dumb! No one even writes letters anymore!”

“I think it’s sweet,” Yuuri confessed.

He thought the idea of sending pen pal letters could be sentimental. He had never received mail from his family, often complaining how expensive it was when video calling was free and money was so tight. 

He was secretly jealous when Phichit would receive countless care packages in the mail from his doting family back home. 

“I think it’s a waste of time!” 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. Phichit thought anything that wasn’t to help his figure skating career of boost his following on social media was a waste of time. 

“Hey, Russian isn’t boring,” Yuuri argued and crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

Truth be told, Yuuri loved the Russian language; the way it sounded, the way it looked on paper, even the way it awkwardly rolled off his foreign tongue; it was all beautiful to Yuuri. He had a fascination for the language ever since he was young so being able to learn it in university was arguably a dream come true.

He had tried to sign up for an intermediate Russian class since he started at the university yet time and time again he had been denied. The first time his schedule did not fit; the second instance, the Russian program lost its funding; the third time, the teacher got arrested for having intimate relationship with an underage student. Now four attempts later, Yuuri would finally learn more Russian than the simple “hello” and “goodbye” he could grasp from a language app or Google Translate.

“You’re just hoping they can teach you enough Russian so you can impress Victor with your skills,” Phichit pointed out nonchalantly.

Yuuri blushed, his face and the tips of his ears flushing to a light red. 

He knew Phichit knew everything about him: what he liked to eat when he was sad, how he liked his eggs, why his favourite color was blue. 

So surely, he knew about his rather obvious affection - rather, obsession - for Four Time World Champion Victor Nikiforov.

Or, well, no one had to be that close to Yuuri to know. He would often discuss the famous skater, trying to change every subject to focus on Victor 

He certainly wasn’t blind to his obsession regarding Victor Nikiforov, after all Yuuri had at least ten posters of the famous skater hanging proudly in their dorm room (not to mention his Victor themed water bottle holder and his replica Team Russia Olympic jacket). 

Phichit knew how much he craved to meet Victor, to even just speak one word of praise to the Russian skater would mean everything to Yuuri. 

He just didn’t think he would ever say it out loud. It sounded so immature out loud: Yuuri taking a class to impress Victor with his Russian skills? 

He could easily have brushed off Phichit’s claim. He could easily lie and say Russian was a common language, an easy A, a hot professor, anything but the truth.

Instead, it seemed his body betrayed him.

“Um…” was the only thing Yuuri could muster as an explanation. He averted his eyes to the ground, watching his long steps as he walked on the sidewalk. He silently wished their dorm was closer so he could lie in his bed and forget this entire conversation.

“Come on, Yuuri. Just admit it. Don’t be embarrassed!”

Yuuri exhaled. He didn’t want to lie to Phichit; he could always tell when he was lying, not that he made it that hard to detect at all. He would often chew on his bottom lip and advert his eyes to the ground, just as he was doing now.

Besides, Phichit deserved to know the truth, as embarrassing as it was. He did take Russian just to communicate with Victor, if he were to ever meet him in person.

It was silly, almost childish, to take a university level course just to speak to his childhood idol.

“I guess that’s part of it,” he muttered, his eyes not meeting Phichit’s.

He kicked a stray rock onto the grass, watching as it tumbled for a bit before settling in the green blades. 

“I knew it!” Phichit exclaimed.

Yuuri shushed him, hoping no one on campus heard Phichit’s loud announcement. 

“Just don’t tell anyone,” he muttered under his breath.

Yuuri would be mortified if anyone or godforbid Victor himself ever found out he had taken a class just to get close to the famous Russian skater.

He would probably drop out of university, change his name, and move to an isolated island in the Caribbean where no one would be able to find him. He would enjoy the rest of his days hiding from his embarrassment, living in perfect solitude. Yes, it was decided; he would look up flights when he got back to the dorm.

“I bet they can figure out for themselves that Yuuri Katsuki took Russian so he can marry Victor Nikforov!”

Yuuri’s blush deepened, bringing a red flush to the tips of his ears. It was embarrassing to hear someone else say it outloud.

Yuuri thought Victor was absolutely perfect and he could probably kill a man and Yuuri wouldn’t think anything less of him.

Victor was the current Four Time Men’s Singles Figure Skating World Champion and it was certainly well deserved. Victor was technically perfect: his quadruple jumps never wobbling and his step sequences never seemed to falter. Not to mention his performance elements which could easily mesmerize everyone who had the privilege of watching one of his routines. 

And as absolutely breathtaking he was on the ice, he was equally as wonderful in real life. Victor was effortlessly beautiful. He had platinum hair that could only be described as angelic with blue eyes that matched the depths of the ocean. He walked and talked with a grace and elegance that no one else could match.  

But it was childish, wasn’t it? To have a crush on someone so unattainable. He wasn’t ten anymore and he shouldn’t feel this way about Victor Nikiforov. 

“It’s pronounced Nikiforov not Nikforov,” Yuuri corrected, in an effort to change the subject. Hopefully correcting Phichit’s pitiful Russian would be enough to change the focus from the Russian skater to something that didn’t make his entire face turn a deep shade of red.

“My point exactly. You love him,” Phichit said, drawling out the ‘o’ in love for emphasis. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes knowing Phichit was just trying to get him to react to such a statement. He had been trying for years to get Yuuri to confess his infatuation for the Russian skater to be a product of love.

It wasn’t love, it most certainly wasn’t love no matter how much Phichit claimed it was. Love wasn’t some word Yuuri would throw around in everyday vernacular like Phichit did. Yuuri wouldn’t profess his love for a Instagram filter or his hamster pets. Love was special, reserved to only the most special situations.

So he certainly didn’t love a man he had yet to meet face to face.

“I don’t love Victor Nikiforov,” he claimed.

“Yes you do.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. Phichit was just being excessive now. He certainly didn’t love Victor Nikiforov. And if he were to, as Phichit put it, love Victor, it would need to be much deeper than his current infatuation. 

He barely knew anything personal about him - aside from a few tidbits of information from interviews. He knew he had a standard sized poodle named Makkachin, he liked the colour pink, and he took his tea with a spoonful of grape jam, but any true fan of Victor knew those facts.

He didn’t know the important details about him that a lover would come to recognize. He didn’t know if he was a morning person, or if he liked chocolates, or even if he liked men at all. 

For all knew, Victor wasn’t attracted to Yuuri after all. 

“You love him enough to write self insert fanfiction,” Phichit pointed out with a smirk. 

Yuuri’s entire face turned red. He accidentally confessed to Phichit when they were drunk in his room that he wrote fanfiction of him marrying and possibly having sex with Victor Nikiforov when he was thirteen. Phichit immediately looked up said fanfiction and began to read - or rather slur - the poorly written and rather dirty words he had wrote so many years ago. 

He thought he would forget by now, his sobriety leaving that night’s memories lost forever. Unfortunately, he still remembered.

He supposed it was better than Phichit finding the body pillow he had tucked away at the bottom of his closet. Or the signed poster of Victor posing for an underwear company that he kept inside his sock drawer.

“I was thirteen!” he defended.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you still want his dick in your-”

“That’s enough of that!” Yuuri interrupted before Phichit could embarrass him further. He didn’t think everyone at the university needed to know how he felt about Victor Nikiforov.

“I’m not in love with Victor Nikiforov,” he concluded, hoping that would end the conversation. He wasn’t sure how much more embarrassment he could endure.

“That’s because you just haven’t met him yet. Promise me this Grand Prix you’ll at least talk to him.”

Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek. Phichit made it sound so easy: qualify for the final, go up to Victor and profess his love for him

Yuuri was not even sure he would personally make it to the final. His performances were getting better as he was just about to add a quadruple salchow to his routine, but they was probably not good enough to make it to the final.

There would countless of better skaters than him.

“No promises,” he assured Phichit.

“Ugh,” he groaned.

Yuuri ignored him in favour of fishing for his wallet and keys from his front pocket. He unfolded his black wallet and pulled out his campus ID. It wasn’t the most flattering of ID card pictures - Yuuri still sported an unfashionable bowl cut and an equally unflattering frown - but it worked all the same.

He tapped the ID against the card reader, unlocking the doors to the residence hall.

It wasn’t the nicest of residence halls on his campus - the two certainly couldn’t afford one of the nicer ones on skater’s salary - but it wasn’t awful either.

It was rectangular brick building that was built to resemble a bomb shelter, although Yuuri argued the crumbling walls could hardly withstand a snow storm, let alone a bomb threat. The main room was coloured in a dated forest green with grey carpeting that had questionable stains. There were pictures of the Resident Assistants and other “Welcome to Detroit” posters were stuck to the wall in an attempt to make the place appear more homely. It did nothing but make Yuuri want to throw up.

“You’re so boring,” Phichit complained and stuck his tongue out.

“You’re right,” he replied sarcastically. He flashed Yuuri a smirk before adding, “and boring old me should get started on his Russian assignment.”

“It’s the first day! You really are boring.”

“You know it,” Yuuri said, flashing a wink at Phichit.

Phichit rolled his eyes but didn’t press further. He knew how important studies were to Yuuri so he didn’t press further. 

“See you at the rink?”

“Yeah, see you there,” Yuuri agreed with a smile.

He bid him a goodbye before walking off towards the rink. Yuuri on the other hand walked down the main corridor towards his room. He strolled up one flight of stairs to the second floor.

He walked up to the eighth door on the right. It was decorated by his RA in bright green posters that read Yuuri and Phichit in bubble letters. He turned his key in the door, opening the door to his room. Yuuri immediately collapsed in his chair settling - or rather plummeting - his books onto his desk.

He had been exhausted from lugging around his books in the end of summer heat and didn’t particularly care if they got ruined; his priority was getting cool. 

He flipped on his desk fan to the maximum heat and enjoyed the relief it provided. He relaxed in that position in hopes that he could stay in front of the fan forever and not have to leave.

After a full minute basking in the artificial breeze, Yuuri decided he should work on his assignment. He took out the paper from his folder, reading over the basic instructions.

**Assignment #1: Pen Pal Letter.**

Yuuri snorted at the comic sans font. 

**Write a one page letter to a new friend in Russian. All letters must be in Cyrillic.**

  1. **Include your name, hometown, hobbies and other**
  2. **Do not include any personal information including address, surname, or financial information**
  3. **Postage will be provided**
  4. **All additional letters will not be graded**
  5. **Have fun!**



**Due September 3rd. Late assignments will not be accepted.**

He looked around his room hoping to get some inspiration on how to start the letter.

His room was rather sparse for a university room. The room was a little larger than a broom closet with a single window that streamed natural light into the room. The furniture was rather bare with only two wooden desks, two beds, and a lamp. Aside from his posters of Victor Nikiforov, no one could conclude that anyone lived here. 

His eyes naturally landed on one of his favourite posters of Victor, the one hanging above his bed. It was from his junior performance, back when he still had long platinum hair that extended to his waist. He was wearing a blue waistcoat and brown tights that resembled a royal outfit. On his shoulders were custom made golden epaulette designed to resemble the ones worn by the late Russian tsars. 

He remember the day he had watched that particular performance. It was a cool spring morning when Yuuko invited him to her home to watch the Junior World Championship on her television. He had uninterestedly watched the other skaters, not particularly fond of their rather lackluster performances. It wasn’t until the announcer called Victor Nikiforov’s name that he began to pay close attention. He watched as Victor skated to the centre, smiling as the crowd roared his name. The familiar sounds of  [ Once Upon A December ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxcLV58mbOY) filling the stadium as he began his routine. 

It was the first performance which he choreographed by himself. Albeit, it was less technical than his usual caliber but still impressive for a fifteen year old. 

He looked to the poster for some sort of inspiration, as if an inanimate picture of the current World Champion could provide him with answers. He stared at his slender legs posed in a layback Ina Bauer position, mesmerized by the handsome man. 

He sighed hopelessly, resigning himself that he wouldn’t be able to write an interesting letter in Russian, even if he did somehow miraculously have a young Victor Nikiforov’s help. 

He began to write, deciding he wasted enough time reminiscing about Victor’s old performance. 

“Дорогой,” he started the letter formally. He curved the Д, trying to write in the neatest handwriting he could muster. 

He wasn’t exactly sure why he was making so much effort for a school assignment, and for an elective class no less. He could easily scribble a few Russian words, promptly getting a good grade on the assignment without spending so much time.

However, some part of his brain told him to it was important to make an effort because regardless of who was on the other side, he would be practicing for Victor, and that’s all what mattered.

He looked down at his assignment, quick to see the name of his pen pal.

Yuuri paused, his heart rate speeding up as he glanced over the band. Yuuri didn’t need to consult a dictionary to know exactly how to translate that. He had seen those string letters before, countless times if he were being honest. It was the name that hung on his wall, that was plastered in silver letters and autographed on his posters.

Viktor.

Виктор .

The name Phichit constantly teased looked like ‘Binktop’.

His mind flashed, for the briefest of seconds, to Victor Nikiforov. That thousands of miles away, Victor Nikiforov was reading his handwritten letters. 

He shook his head, desperate to erase the thought that Victor Nikiforov was his pen pal. Plenty of people were named Victor. The odds that Victor Nikiforov would read this letter and the reply on his busy schedule would be zero to none. He probably had other important things to do like choreograph his performance for this year or talk at another interview. Besides, he had no reason to help a university student with his poor Russian.

As pervasive as those thoughts were, Yuuri knew he was being ridiculous.

He erased his previous words, thinking that ‘Dear Viktor’ came off too strong, too formal, too I-was-forced-to-write-this-for-school. He needed to make a good impression on his pen pal. One that showed that he cared about writing these letters but didn’t care too much.

_ Hi Viktor, _ he settled for.

Yuuri stuck to the basics. He supposed his name and age would be sufficient enough.

_ My name is Yuuri. I am 23 years old. _

Yuuri took the pen into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. He enjoyed the familiar taste of plastic on his tongue as he chewed on the backside of the pen. He found it relaxed his nerves, especially when writing his exams.

_ I live in the United States right now but I was born in Japan. _

He looked down at his letter, wondering what else he could possibly write about himself. He wasn’t all that interesting and couldn’t exactly discuss any crucial details about his life without giving away his identity. 

Besides, Yuuri didn’t know what else to say other than his name and his home. He wasn’t the most interesting of people to begin with. His most interesting trait was his ice skating but he doubted anyone would want to gawk about ice skating with him. 

So he settled for broad topics. 

_ I like dogs _ he added, hoping to find a common interest they could discuss.

Dogs were often an easy topic to discuss with strangers. Yuuri had yet to meet a person who despised dogs, and he doubted he ever wanted to meet someone who did.

He stared at the the page, reading over for any mistakes. He supposed this was enough for the assignment, seeing as his poor excuse for Cyrillic covered the entirety of the lined page.

_ Yours truly, Yuuri _ he wrote, promptly ending the letter. 

It was a simple, albeit boring letter. He didn’t believe he needed much more than the simple requirements. He doubted that the Victor on the other side would want much to read about someone as boring as Yuuri anyways. That was, if he even read the letter.

He doubted that he would be receive more than the initial required letter before they would never speak again. He supposed that was how these programs were, anyways.

Yuuri looked at his watch. 

“Shit!” he exclaimed, pushing himself up from his chair.

Had he really just spent forty five minutes writing a letter?

* * *

“Yuuri, are you okay? It’s not like you to be late,” Celestino asked.

Celestino Cialdini - or Ciao Ciao as Phichit jokingly referred to him as - was Yuuri’s current coach. He had been the one to recruit him after his Junior Grand Prix final years ago. He encouraged Yuuri to join the team in Detroit and provided him with a scholarship to fund his studies and skating career. Yuuri couldn’t deny such a generous request so he packed up his life in Japan and moved to Detroit.

He tried not to fidget under the scrutiny of his coach, but he found himself grabbing for the sleeves of his sweater, twisting them in his hands.

It seems almost childish to be so intimidated by his coach, he had known him for five years after all. He was sometimes stern and overly passionate with his large hand gestures, but he had a kind heart that Yuuri admired. He knew Celestino wouldn’t hurt him, especially for being late, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious.

He was rather tall - at least a head taller than Yuuri - with broad shoulders and muscular arms. He had a square face with a strong jawline and a prominent cleft in his chin. His luscious brown tresses that were typically tied back or pulled back by a headband. He spoke with a rather thick Italian accent which often made communicating with his coach extremely difficult in some situations, this being one of them.

“I’m sorry coach! I had to finish an assignment,” he apologized bowing lowly.

He hoped Celestino would understand that work came before ice skating. He usually was one to support studying so his excuse would be sufficient enough.

He raised one eyebrow, skeptical of Yuuri’s lame explanation.

“On the first day?”

Yuuri gave a small nod.

It must have been a terrible explanation after all. Most professors didn’t assign work until the second class, after all.

“It’s for Russian,” he continued, his voice low.

“Mm, I see,” he hummed, accepting Yuuri’s explanation. 

He clapped Yuuri on the back, resting his large palm on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you’re taking your studies seriously unlike some students.”

He eyed Phichit, obviously targeting his sentence towards the younger skater. It was a well known fact to all the skaters that Phichit often slacked off on his studies, leaving work to the last possible minute before starting.

“Hey, it’s still the first day!” Phichit defended with a huff. “Yuu-chan’s just crazy.”

“I can’t help that I’m planning for a future that’s not ice skating.”

Phichit raised his middle finger at Yuuri in an obscene gesture.

“Enough, boys,” Celestino decided, his voice echoing around the rink. 

The two boys huffed, crossing their arms over their chests to signal that they were done bickering but still a bit annoyed at the other.

“Now, I want to introduce you two to the newest member of our rink.”

Yuuri turned his attention to the student in question.

He was tall, much taller than Phichit or Yuuri with long legs and broad shoulders. His body resembled more of a hockey player than a figure skater, if he were being honest.

His skin was a warm tawny tone that was darker than Yuuri’s own skin but far lighter than Phichit’s.

His dark hair was shaved on the sides creating an undercut hairstyle that made him a bit intimidating to Yuuri, if he were being honest.

“This is Jean-Jacques Leroy. He’ll be joining us this season.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed at Phichit and Yuuri. His stormy blue eyes glared at the two skaters as if he were forming his own opinion about the their appearances.

“Just call me JJ. Jean-Jacques Leroy is kind of a mouthful,” he said, his tone light.

“Wait? Leroy, like Alain and Nathalie Leroy? The ice dancers?” Phichit asked, his eyes wide.

Yuuri gaped, his mouth hanging open slightly. He couldn’t believe he didn’t recognize him before: the thick eyebrows of Natalie, the blue eyes of Alain, there was no doubt he was the son of the famous ice dancing duo.

The two had won countless medals back before Yuuri was even born. His father had even made history for being the first [Métis](http://firstpeoplesofcanada.com/fp_metis/fp_metis1.html)  person to win an Olympic gold medal. They were arguably as famous as Victor Nikiforov in the ice skating world. He couldn’t believe their son was standing before him.

“Yeah, that’s my parents,” he said with a nervous laugh. He flashed Phichit a wide smile, but Yuuri could tell it was a bit forced. 

He knew it must be hard for JJ to be in his parent’s shadow with such high expectations on him for his debut. No wonder he ran from the pressure and escaped to America.

“You’ll have to get me an autograph! Your parents are great.”

“Will do,” he agreed with a wide smile. 

“Cool!”

“And who should they make it out to? Dumb and dumber?” he asked playfully.

Yuuri tensed at that comment, his body becoming slightly rigid. He knew JJ was just being playful, teasing the two with absolutely no malice yet something in his mind told him there was something wary about JJ.

He knew it was supposed to be playful, just a joke between acquaintances, but somewhere deep in his mind reminded him that he was telling the truth.

“Nah, I’m Phichit and that’s Yuu-Chan,” Phichit explained. He snaked his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder for emphasis.

“Hey, I recognize you. Loved your season last year,” he praised.

Yuuri opened his mouth to respond, ready to dutifully thank him for his support however, JJ interrupted him before he could reply.

“But you’ll have to be better though cause I’m gonna give you a run for your money.”

Yuuri fidgeted slightly, a bit uncomfortable with Jean-Jacques’s comment. 

Jean-Jacques would be a fresh new face to the skating scene. He was confident and bold, not to mention he basically had skating blood in him. 

And what was Yuuri? He was just an average figure skater with a small fan base and crippling anxiety. There was nothing particularly interesting about him. He was going to be twenty three at the end of the season, practically a senior citizen in the skating world.

What did he have to show for it? A few medals from smaller competitions and a win at the Junior Grand Prix Finals?

It was a wonder he hadn’t retired yet.

“Thanks,” he muttered, his mood immediately soured.

He dropped his bag on the benches, plopping down beside it.

He took his skates out of the bag, eager to get onto the ice. 

He snaked his foot into the boot, staring down at how his foot perfectly molded to the black skate. They weren’t the nicest of pairs - the sole was worn and the laces were a bit frayed - but they were the nicest he could afford.

Jean-Jacques sat beside him, obviously not noticing how tense Yuuri was. Yuuri ignored him and focused on tying up his laces.

“Hey, you said you’re in Russian, right? With Professor Nikolai?” he asked in an effort to make small talk.

And it wasn’t that Yuuri didn’t appreciate his camaraderie -Yuuri knew how hard it must have been to be the new kid - but he just wished JJ was a bit nicer about it. 

“Yeah…” Yuuri said, drawling out the word longer than it needed to be. He was unsure what JJ’s intentions truly were. On the one hand, he could be just trying to make conversation in an attempt to befriend Yuuri. On the other, he could be trying to sabotage Yuuri to make sure he would win at the Finals.

Yuuri remained guarded, just to be safe in case JJ had poor intentions.

“Can you help me?” JJ asked, the desperation obvious in his tone.

Yuuri blinked twice. He had never been asked to help someone with their Russian - aside from Phichit who knew Yuuri would help him with anything if he begged enough.

“I’m not really good at Russian,” he noted modestly.

He truly wasn’t very good at Russian - aside from a few basic phrases and some skating terms - and he was far from fluent. If it didn’t have to do with Victor Nikiforov, he had little knowledge of the Russian language. He used Google Translate for his assignments, just like everyone else with basic knowledge. If JJ really wanted help with Russian, he probably should find someone who was actually fluent.

“That’s a lie! Yuu-chan is amazing!” Phichit praised, slinging an arm around Yuuri’s neck.

“Phichit’s exaggerating,” he assured his new rinkmate.

Yuuri was quick to pluck Phichit’s arm from around him. He was never really fond of physical touch.

“That’s fine. Even if you’re not, I need some help with my grammar for the pen pal thing.”

Before Yuuri could protested, he promptly reached into his backpack pulling out a red spiral notebook with two Montreal Canadiens stickers pasted on the front cover. He opened the notebook to a clean sheet, thumbing through a few scribbles about his performances. 

“You want to do this now?” Yuuri asked, an eyebrow raised.

The ice rink was hardly a conducive environment for homework, let alone writing homework in Russian. 

“What can I say? I’m a busy person. The season’s starting soon! Can’t be slacking on my studies.”

Yuuri supposed he couldn’t deny JJ of his help. Besides, he truly did want to become friends with JJ, even if he was a bit arrogant. Maybe helping his with an assignment could help change JJ’s opinion about him.

“Alright. I’ll help but only this time.”

“Thanks. Um…Yuu-chan, right?”

“It’s Yuuri,” he corrected coldly.

Yuuri didn’t appreciate a stranger, especially JJ, using that nickname. Only his close friends like Phichit and his sister were allowed to call him Yuu-chan. 

“Oh sorry, Yuuri.” He chuckled. “You know, my pen pal’s name is Yuri too. But it’s spelled with one U.”

Yuuri rubbed the hairs on the back of his neck, unsure of how to respond to such a comment. 

“What a coincidence,” he settled for saying.

JJ flashed him a smile. “I know, right?”

He flipped to an empty page in his notebook.

“So what should I write?”

“Okay let’s start with the basics. Start with saying hello and your name and age.”

JJ nodded. He diligently scribbled “ _ Dear Yuri _ ” in Cyrillic, not caring that the words were slightly tilted and almost illegible. 

“Like this?” he asked. He turned his paper so Yuuri could read it without straining. 

Yuuri glanced at the page, looking for any minor mistakes to correct JJ on. 

“Just correct the first word. It should be a ‘й’ instead of an ‘N’,” he helpfully told his rink mates.

“Wow. You’re pretty good as this,” JJ praised. He quickly erased his mistake before correcting it with Yuuri’s suggestion. It was obvious his Cyrillic still needed some work but he supposed it couldn’t be helped. 

“Thanks,” Yuuri muttered. He absentmindedly pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose before adding  “now go on and say something about yourself.”

JJ blinked twice.

“What should I say?”

Yuuri furrowed his eyebrows together. He had no idea what JJ should include in his letter about himself. He barely knew his rinkmate aside from the fact that he was from Canada and previously in the Junior division and his parents were famous ice dancers.

“Say that you like ice skating,” he blurted, hoping his simple statement would suffice.

“I can’t say that! That’s boring,” he complained. 

“Then what do you want to say?” Yuuri asked, the frustration obvious in his tone.

He knew he shouldn’t be frustrated with him, he did nothing wrong other than ask for simple advice on his letter, but Yuuri couldn’t help it. He would much rather be on the ice fixing his program than helping someone he barely knew write a letter for a class.

“How about I’m the best skater in the whole world and I’m gonna prove it at my first ever senior debut?”

Yuuri didn’t mean to roll his eyes at JJ’s snide remark about winning the Grand Prix Final - he really didn’t. It was just too hard not to be a bit frustrated by his new rink mate. In all honesty, Yuuri should have been thrilled that he was making friends with the other skaters in his rink. He often found it hard to connect to the other skaters in his group, choosing to focus on his routines rather than socializing with his peers. It wasn’t that he didn’t want friends, he just found himself not able to relate to everyone else. 

So in his third year, he was grateful when Phichit was assigned as his roommate.

When he first met Phichit, Yuuri had thought he would never want to be friends with someone like Yuuri, and he was only being nice to him out of necessity. Phichit was kind and full of smiles, everything Yuuri was not.

He supposed opposites really did attract because Yuuri and Phichit became inseparable, spending hours upon hours. Many of his rink mates jokes that if one wanted to find Yuuri, they should find Phichit, and vice versa. 

He wished he could have the same relationship with JJ. However, something undoubtedly made Yuuri weary about JJ. JJ was confident in his abilities - not to say that he wasn’t a great skaters because he was, in fact, one of the best skaters in the rink. He would proudly flaunt his newest quadruple jump while Yuuri could barely land a quadruple salchow. 

He didn’t seem like the kind of person Yuuri could see himself being best friends with.

“I think that’s a bit much,” Yuuri admitted in a small voice. “You should just say that you like ice skating. Keep it simple.”

Yuuri hoped JJ wouldn’t get angry at him for suggesting. He wanted to make friends with JJ - he sincerely did - but he was making it difficult to remain friendly.

JJ seemed unpredictable, ready to fight Yuuri at any moment. He could easily reject Yuuri’s suggestions and make Yuuri’s life at the rink a living nightmare. 

Instead, he shrugged his shoulders in agreement. 

“Mm, whatever gets me an A on this assignment.”

Yuuri exhaled in relief. 

“If that’s how you see it,” he found himself saying.

“Why?” he asked, his tone turning cold. “Should I see it anything more? I doubt they’re even gonna read it. No one reads mail anymore.”

“That’s true,” Yuuri agreed. “But it’s nice to put in some effort.”

JJ frowned.

“You told me not to put in effort.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. That wasn’t what he meant at all. 

“I said not to go overboard,” Yuuri pointed out.

JJ huffed, letting a breath of warm air escape from his lips. 

“Well what did you write, Mr. Smarty Pants?” he asked snarkily. 

“Just the basics,” Yuuri said, ignoring JJ’s rather rude comment. He didn’t want to anger the Canadian further so he focused on the question at hand. “That I’m from Japan. That I like dogs.”

“So should I say I’m from Canada and I like ice skating?”

“If you want,” Yuuri agreed. 

JJ opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by his phone ringing. Yuuri recognized the ringtone as an obnoxious rock version of ‘O Canada’ from an outdated Canadian punk rock band. 

He pulled his phone out from his pocket, glancing down at the bright screen. There was a picture of a gorgeous girl creating two Js with her hands with the name ‘Isabella’ above the photo. 

“Hey, I gotta talk to my girlfriend,” he said apologetically. “See you around?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. He watched as JJ sprinted out of the rink, excitedly greeting his girlfriend in rapid French.

“Yuuri!” Celestino shouted from the edge of the rink. “Let’s see your quadruple salchow!”

Yuuri stood up, happy to finally get a chance to ice skate. 

“Yes, sir!” 

* * *

“Hey Yuuri!” Phichit called from the other side of the courtyard. He immediately ran over to Yuuri, weaving through the crowd of students who were trying to cross the campus as well.

“You heading back to the dorm?” he asked once he approached Yuuri. 

Yuuri nodded. He was finally done with his lectures for the day and was free to relax before evening practice, or rather start on his multiple assignments that were due the upcoming week.

Phichit on the other hand wasn’t as fortunate.

“You’re so lucky. I don’t want to practice now,” Phichit complained with a groan. 

“It’s better than studying,” he pointed out.

“Speaking of studying, did you finish your mathematics assignment? I want to check over my answers.”

Yuuri rolled his brown eyes. 

He knew this would happen eventually. 

Phichit wasn’t one to do his assignments, especially his required mathematics assignments. He would complain that he wasn’t a math major and didn’t understand why he was required to take it. Yuuri, on the other hand, was a finance major so math was rather easy for him. Therefore, he was doing everyone a favour by asking to see Yuuri’s notes: Yuuri would get more mathematics practice and Phichit would get good grades.

“And by 'check over’ you mean steal,” Yuuri corrected, following Phichit’s quick pace.

Phichit flashed him a knowing grin. He had no intention to do the assignment, especially since he knew Yuuri would surely help him by providing him with answers.

“At least we’re on the same page!” 

He smirked a bit, knowing Yuuri would give him the assignment with little resistance.

Yuuri rolled his eyes and focused on the dorm ahead. He just wanted to return to his room and snuggle under his covers before practice. He fished out his wallet and keys from his backpack, scanning his against the card reader robotically.

He pushed open the door, sighing in the relief as he felt the cool air conditioning in the dorm.

“Hey Leo,” Phichit greeted as he rounded the front desk.

“Hey, Phichit! Hey, Yuuri!” he said cheerfully.

Leo de la Iglesia was one of his fellow rink mates. He was only nineteen but his facial features made him look more mature than Yuuri. His reddish brown hair fell in front of his sharp face, emphasizing his sharp jaw. His eyes were crinkled slightly and his pink lips were curled into a friendly smile. 

He was known as one of the friendliest people at his rink, even having more friends than Phichit, but for some reason, Yuuri had yet to form a strong bond with the young skater. He knew Leo was often very busy, spending less time at the rink that anyone under Celestino’s guidance. He had to juggle band practice and student government as well as the extra front desk job. It was a surprise that he had time for ice skating at all.

“Yuuri, you got a letter this afternoon!”

“Really?” Yuuri asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

He never really received mail aside from a few advertisements that would just end up in the trash. He just wished Leo would filter out those messages for him so he wouldn’t be bothered with such nonsense.

“Yup! It’s a big package,” Leo confirmed.

Yuuri blinked twice, a bit confused by Leo’s statement. He wasn’t expecting anything of that size. He mentally wondered what the package could be. He wondered if he had bought something while he was drunk, again. 

“It must be from back home with that many stamps. Your parents must’ve paid a fortune to deliver this.”

“Oh. I wasn’t expecting a package from home,” he mused to no one in particular.

His parents and sister had yet to inform him that he should be expecting a care package. To be honest, his parents rarely sent him care packages - not because they didn’t care but rather that sending international mail was extremely expensive. He would usually receive about one package a semester from his parents as a sort of care packages for finals but it was still the beginning of the semester.

Something seemed extremely odd about this package. 

“Let me grab it from the back,” Leo said. He disappeared into the small mail room behind the front desk.

“Do you think it’s some secret admirer? Or maybe even fan mail?” Phichit suggested.

Yuuri hadn’t even considered that possibility. He hadn’t made his address well known to his fans or so called secret admirers so he doubted that would be the case.

“Probably not,” Yuuri admitted.

He did have a P.O. Box after Minako encouraged - more like forced - him to do back during his junior debut. He had never given the box much thought, scared that it would be empty if he opened it. He wasn’t sure why anyone would send his fan mail. He wasn’t all that popular outside of a few loyal fans in Japan. 

So he highly doubted that this package was from a fan. 

“Here this one’s yours,” Leo told the pair, holding up a large box.

Yuuri took the box from Leo, weighted slightly down by the heavy contents inside. He hadn’t ever received a package this heavy, not even from his parents. They must have surprised him with something special and he would surely need to thank them for the gift.

“Woah, that’s huge! I hope there’s those Japanese candies in there! I love it when your parents send candy!” Phichit said excitedly. 

Yuuri looked at the tag, hoping it provided some explanation about the contents of his package.

“From St. Petersburg Russia?” he said, reading out the return address.

There was only one person he knew from St. Petersburg (well two if he counted Victor Nikiforov). This was his letter from his pen pal. 

He had received a letter - or rather a package - back.

He couldn’t believe they had went through such an effort with their  letter. It was truly more than Yuuri expected he would ever receive in return. If he were being honest, he would’ve been content with a simple letter or even a postcard. 

He turned over the package, hoping that this was some joke. It couldn’t have been from his pen pal. The box must have cost a fortune to ship overseas. The letter was stamped with six different stamps, all pictures of the globe. Not to mention the box was had the word 'priority’ printed on all sides and there were about six different 'fragile’ stickers stuck to the box.

“Is that from your pen pal?” Phichit asked curiously. He followed as Yuuri carefully balanced the box in his hands.

“I guess. I don’t really know anyone else from Russia.”

“Well you’ve got to open it!” Leo announced.

"You’ve got to update me about it after practice!” Phichit decided.

“Me too!” Leo agreed.

“Will do,” Yuuri complied reluctantly. He didn’t particularly want to tell Phichit and Leo what he had reviewed from his pen pal - it was between him and Viktor after all. He supposed the situation couldn’t be helped and he would have to get his next letter without the two knowing. 

Yuuri bid the two goodbye before teetering up the stairs to his dorm room, careful not to break the box. He shifted the weight of the box to his left side, truly feeling how heavy the box was as he opened his door. He unceremoniously dropped the box onto his table and was content that he didn’t need to carry it any longer. 

Yuuri reached for a scissor at the bottom of his draw, snipping through the packing tape. The package burst open, causing a few pieces of foam protection to fall onto his floor. Yuuri ignored those for now in favour of the neat letter was folded on the top.

Yuuri unfolded the letter, admiring the expensive parchment and intricate details of the letter.

_ Dear Yuuri _ the letter began in English. The words were written in looping cursive, taking up a large portion of the thick paper. It put Yuuri’s small handwriting to shame. 

_ It is so great to talk to you!  _ the letter began, the excitement basically leaking from the words on the page. 

Yuuri wondered how much effort Viktor put into the letter. Clearly much more than Yuuri had, and much more than was necessary to complete the assignment. He had received the package only a week after it was sent it, meaning the package must have been put through some sort of priority mailing system. 

It was entirely possible that he was simply trying to impress his teacher for a better grade by sending such an impressive letter. 

On the other hand, he could be genuinely enthusiastic about receiving hand written messages. 

_ I was so happy when I saw handwritten mail addressed to me! No one sends me letters now! _

Yuuri smiled at his sincerity. He was grateful of how nice his pen pal was, and how much he cares about receiving letters. It was nice to see that someone else shared the same enthusiasm for handwritten notes.

_ I am 26 now. That is old for school but I have to work on writing English. _

Yuuri chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously. He didn’t think twenty-six was particularly too old (Victor Nikiforov was twenty-six and still winning gold medals so obviously twenty-six wasn’t too old). He was only four years older than Yuuri, after all.

_ I live in Russia. I added gifts and pictures. _

Yuuri reached into the box to look for the aforementioned photographs. The photos were neatly placed in a clear plastic bag which Yuuri easily opened. Inside were high quality photographs of St. Petersburg and other Russian landmarks. Yuuri recognized some of the sights from movies. The Palace Square, the Moyka River, and the Church of the Savior on Blood. It was all so beautiful. He would definitely have to visit if he was fortunate enough to be invited to the Olympics in Sochi this year.

_ I want to see picture of your home. You live in Detroit now. That is far from home, yes? _

That was an understatement. Detroit was about as far and different from his home as possible. 

_ You said you like dog. There is plush of dog too! _

Yuuri reached into the box, pulling out the plush toy. His hands grazed over the soft dog toy, petting the fur of the fake poodle. He noted that it was much like his own dog back at home, Vicchan. The dog had the same unruly hair as his own dog although it was a shade lighter than Vicchan’s. 

He wondered how Viktor could correctly guess that he had a poodle too. He supposed he just bought a standard plush animal and it was all just a coincidence.

_ I also got candy. Strawberry Ptichye Moloko is best. _

Yuuri was amazed by all of the goods packed into the box. He reached towards the bottom, hoping that this was the last gift Viktor sent him. 

He plucked the bag of Ptichye Moloko candies, eyeing it suspiciously. It seemed innocent enough, a chocolate covered candy with a creme filling.  He looked at the calorie count: 85 calories per 1 candy. 

He sighed. His strict diet couldn’t afford to have something so caloric, even if it was a gift. The season would be starting soon and Yuuri couldn’t afford any fluctuations in his weight, even if it was less than one hundred calories.

He supposed he could give the bag to Phichit or JJ instead. Hopefully that could get JJ to like him.

_ Do you like candy? What do you like other? _

Yuuri chuckled at Viktor’s poor English. It was sweet to see how hard he was trying despite the language barrier. Yuuri silently wished his Russian could be good enough that he could write such well thought out letters in response.

_ I know writing is for school but I want to receive more letters. _

The corners of Yuuri’s lips turned upwards. It was silly and ridiculous how happy he was over receiving a letter in the mail. Deep down he knew Viktor had only responded out of necessity, seeing as it was a mandatory assignment after all. 

_ Why did you choose Russian?  _

Yuuri didn’t want to tell Victor the real reason that he had chosen Russian; it was embarrassing enough that Phichit knew it was to impress Victor Nikiforov so he most certainly didn’t need his pen pal to laugh at him for such a reason. 

_ Not many people like Russian.  _

Yuuri inwardly chuckled at that. Most people claimed that Russian sounded harsh and accented like a villain in an action movie. However, Yuuri thought it was a language that could sound rather romantic and smooth, especially if it were Victor Nikiforov speaking. 

_ I teach you Russian and you teach me English or Japanese! I want to learn Japanese! I want to know all about Yuuri! _

Yuuri smiled, looking up from the letter, his eyes locking onto his most recent poster of Victor Nikiforov. As unlikely as it was, he still imagined the famous skater’s smooth and accented voice as he read out the end of the letter.

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yours truly,  Виктор .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments/kudos if you liked! Also, I would love to hear any ideas you have for this AU!  
> Plus, I am super new to AO3 so if you would like to edit or beta this fic, feel free to contact me!
> 
> Some important AU things:  
> -Yuuri will refer his pen pal as Viktor but the famous ice skater as Victor to avoid any confusion. Do not be confused though, they ARE the same person!!  
> -I HC that Yuuri took Russian in University as an elective because he definitely wanted to impress Victor when they met.  
> -The reason that neither knows about the other is because most pen pal programs don't require having a last name, so it just says Yuuri and Viktor on their letters.  
> -Yuuri definitely has a P.O. Box that is stuffed with fan mail! It is so full that the post office has an entire room dedicated to all the mail he receives!  
> -And yes, Yuuri definitely has a Victor body pillow and wrote smutty fanfic of himself and Victor!  
> -Of course, I had to make a Виктор/Binktop joke ;)  
> -I wanted to make JJ Métis because we need more aboriginal representation and I love that HC!  
> -Also, we need more JJ love!!  
> -Phichit will NOT be in the GPF this year and his first competition will be nationals this season! Sorry Phichit but you will have to wait until next year!  
> -In this AU, I went with the interpretation that JJ, Leo, Yuuri, and Phichit are all in Detroit training under Celestino and all attend the same University. I mean, JJ did train under Celestino so who's to say the others didn't? Basically, there's my excuse for all these characters to be here!  
> -Victor definitely skated to a Russian version of Once Upon A December because that song is amazing and I love that movie so much! If you haven't seen Anastasia, please go watch it!  
> -I have a HC that Victor is horrible at writing Russian but is fluent at speaking due to his interviews. So that was why his English is not perfect in the letters.  
> -Also, I had to make Victor extra and send Yuuri an entire package because he definitely would. And yeah, he probably spent over 100$ USD on stamps and shipping alone!  
> -This fic will be following the 2013-2014 Figure Skating Season where the GPF is in Fukuoka (plus this has the Olympics in Sochi so more chances for the two to see each other's homes).  
> -There will probably be about 8 chapters with an epilogue but I'm not sure if I want to make it longer or shorter. Let me know if you want a longer fic or a shorter with a sequel.  
> -The next chapter will be in Victor's POV so we'll see what he thinks of Yuuri!
> 
> Follow my tumblr [@vodkawrites](http://vodkawrites.tumblr.com) for more updates, art, and other yuri!!! on ice content!!


	2. Return To Sender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor doesn't know how to respond to Yuuri's letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my tumblr [@vodkawrites](http://vodkawrites.tumblr.com) for more updates, art, and other yuri!!! on ice content!! 
> 
> A big thank you to [@justahumblepotato](https://justahumblepotato.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for being my beta for this chapter!!

Victor couldn’t stop smiling since he woke up. 

Scratch that, Victor couldn’t stop smiling since he went to his mailbox and found a new letter from Yuuri. 

It had only been a week since he sent off his package and he had impatiently waited for a response. He had memorized the schedule of his local mail delivery - there would be a mail delivery at six in the morning and a package delivery at four in the afternoon - and all but camped outside his mailbox in anticipation.

As the days passed, he wondered if he would even receive a letter in return. By day five, he had all but lost hope that Yuuri would respond. After all, the letter was only for a class assignment and he had no obligations to continue their conversation. Yuuri could have easily take Victor's letter and tossed it in the nearest trash can, never go think of him again. 

He was unsure how Yuuri would react to his letter. Would he like the gifts? Did he even like chocolates? Was his English even good enough? His doubtful thoughts seemed to invade his mind, eating away at any possible notion that Yuuri liked his letter - or rather his overly expensive package. 

Victor never felt this way before, especially not over something so trivial as a response to a handwritten letter that was just for an assignment. He had never hesitated before, always accomplishing his goals confidently. His stomach twisted, threatening to expel the bile that collected in his throat.

Albeit, it was the first letter he had written in a while. In all honesty, it was probably the first handwritten letter he had ever personally sent. He had always preferred to call or email (or had his public relations assistant take care of the situation) so he had to make this letter perfect. 

He had eagerly opened his rustic mailbox - a rusted gold with hinges that were obviously broken and definitely needed to be updated - hoping Yuuri’s letter had been included in today’s delivery. On top of a pile of junk mail was a white envelope with his address handwritten in a cute block letters. 

It was so unbecoming, borderline immature, how happy he was to receive another letter from his pen pal. It was especially ironic seeing how much he complained about being forced to do the assignment in the first place. Just two weeks ago, Yakov had forcibly signed all of his skaters up for a pen pal program to improve their English. He lectured about how important English was for their careers and that somehow writing letters to students in the United States would be a good way to practice. 

At first, Victor saw it as a distraction or punishment from Yakov - Yakov often punished him for misbehaving. He had even gone as far as to beg his coach to not be included. He simply couldn’t afford to waste time with writing English when he could be practicing his routines for the season; his English was good enough for interviews, anyways. Surely his coach could understand that his career came first; after all, he did preach about how important it was to stop wasting time on his phone and practice more. 

However, Yakov was relentless. Even after Victor had ignored his studies and officially dropped out of school to pursue skating, his coach insisted that he continue with English studies, at the very least. He wouldn’t have his skaters embarrass him with poor etiquette.

He was all about to forget about the assignment until he received his first letter from Yuuri. Something about his enthusiasm and down-to-Earth personality that made Victor rather intrigued. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Yuuri.

He looked down at the letter, glancing at his name in neat Cyrillic. He hardly had time to open the letter, lest be late to his morning practice. He usually didn’t care if he was late - he often strolled in hours past his scheduled time, earning himself a lecture from his coach - but he wanted to refine his routines before the official start of the season. There were obvious flaws in his routine and he most certainly needed the extra time to perfect the step sequences to enhance the overall performance score. However, that meant he would be forced to bring his letter along on his ten minute walk to the rink if he wanted to read it before practice.

Victor unlocked the doors to the private section of the rink before pushing the doors open. It was early, far earlier than Victor had been to the rink in years. The soft rays of the morning sun streamed from the large windows the rink, illuminating the rink in a warm pink glow. 

He hoped that nobody even arrived this early and he could enjoy a quiet few minutes with Yuuri’s letter before he could be distracted by the commotion of the rink. However, he didn’t seem that fortunate to have the rink to himself.

Yuri Plisetsky, the self proclaimed ‘Ice Tiger of Russia’ and current Junior Champion had somehow arrived before Victor. He was the only junior skater at his rink but he was certainly one of the most talented. He had won the title last year and there was an extremely high chance he would win again this year. Or at least Yakov thought so, Victor didn't exactly pay mind to any other skaters. 

However, there was something inherently different about Yuri. He supposed Yuri reminded him of himself during his Junior years: eager yet stubborn. He had even attempted quadruple jumps, despite Yakov's protests about his body being too young.  Yuri had his own enthralling charm to him that even Victor couldn’t quite explain. His movements were calculated and fluid, borderline perfect, so it was no wonder that Yakov accepted him into the rink well before his senior debut.

Not to mention that he was beautiful, in every meaning of the word. He had short blond hair that extended past his ears, curling around his round face. His eyes were a radiant shade of green that could rival even the most expensive of emeralds. He was still rather young, as evident by his slender shoulders and round cheeks, but he was one of the only people at the rink Victor thought he could truly consider his friend. 

"Oh, Yuri!" Victor announced. 

Yuri ignored Victor, not even looking up as he completed another loop around the rink. He was doing his obligatory warm up laps, something Victor often skipped in favour of sleeping in later. He knew he should warm up as well - he often lectured to about how warming up was important - but with so many years of experience, he failed to see how an extra few minutes could sincerely improve his performance. Unlike Yuri, he wasn’t a junior anymore. 

“I got a letter!” Victor declared, louder this time. 

"What? Who's sending you mail? Some fan you knocked up?" Yuri asked, finally acknowledging Victor. He stopped his warm up laps and skated towards the edge of the rink. He brushed up bits of slush as he halted to a stop near the exit of the rink. 

Victor scowled, not appreciating Yuri's comment. He knew outsiders often saw him as an eligible bachelor who could not be tied down to anyone. They often spread rumors about him with any person he made eye contact with, fooling around with every skater in the Grand Prix before tossing them aside for his next victim. But his rink mates knew better than to see him as so shallow. Truth be told, was saving his virginity for someone special. 

So it hurt all the same knowing that his only friend at the rink thought so lowly of him. 

"No! It's from my pen pal!” he said, completely ignoring Yuri’s comment.

He supposed someone had to be mature in this situation. Sure, he could have screamed at his friend, argued with Yuri until his throat was dry. Instead, he chose to ignore Yuri's comment altogether. He wouldn't let his negativity spoil his lovely mail. Today was supposed to be a celebration for Victor and he certainly wasn’t going to let an angsty teenager ruin his fun.

“His name is Yuuri too!" 

"There can't be two Yuris," Yuri huffed. He crossed his arms over his chest, much like a child who didn't get what they wanted. He supposed he couldn't blame Yuri; he was the youngest person at his rink, after all. He had moved from his home rink to St. Petersburg the age of 10 and even dropped out of school to focus all of his energy on skating. Yuri wasn't even fifteen and was already the Junior World Champion. 

“But his name has two ‘U’s.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Victor smirked. 

"Then I'll call you Yura." 

"I'm not Yura," Yuri protested.

Victor tapped his index finger to his lips in thought. It was a reflexive habit - a habit he had developed over his childhood and one he had yet to completely break. He supposed the tapping could be seen as endearing and took no effort to change his instinctual quirk. 

"How about Yurio?" Victor suggested, knowing fully well how angry this name would make the junior skater. Only his grandfather was allowed to call him pet names and to everyone else he was Yuri. Not Yura or Yuratchka or The-Fairy-Of-Russian-Skating. Just Yuri. 

Victor assumed it was a rebellious way to seem more mature than he was. It wasn’t uncommon to see teenagers wanting to rebel and Victor too found his temper to be less than endearing when he was younger. Although, he knew better than to assume that Yuri’s behavior was a mere product of teenage angst. He supposed the younger skater’s disdain was some sort of roundabout way of showing his affection. Regardless, he knew such a nickname would surely elicit some sort of reaction from the younger skater.  

"You're an idiot," he muttered under his breath.

Victor rolled his blue eyes at Yuri's retort. 

"Why are you so angry? Are you jealous?" Victor asked. 

He leaned in over the banister, his face mere centimeters from Yuri's. He could see every small change in Yuri's expression. His eyes wavered slightly and his lips curling into a frown: all the telltale signs of jealousy. The small tremors in his hands all but confirmed Victor’s suspicions. 

"I'm not jealous over something so stupid!" he protested. It was painfully obvious that despite his complaints, he secretly was jealous. Whether it was of Victor's pen pal or Victor himself, he couldn't be quite sure. Victor straightened his back, trying to intimidate Yuri with his mere height over the younger boy.

"Didn't you get a letter?" he asked with fake innocence. He knew Yuri was - albeit unwillingly - forced into participating in the pen pal program as well. Yuri must not have received a letter in return, not that he blamed with pen pal for ignoring him. 

"I did," Yuri admitted. 

He nonchalantly leaned on the banister, distributing his weight from his skates to the back of the boards. It was poor posture to do such, and he hoped for Yuri's sake that Yakov didn't happen to catch him slouching, but he didn't seem to care.

"I just threw mine in the trash." 

Victor audibly gasped, his hand covering his mouth theatrically. "That's so mean! What if they were looking forward to hearing from you?" 

Victor couldn't imagine that someone would be so heartless as to throw out a handwritten letter. Sure, it had been for an assignment Yakov had signed them up for as a way to learn English, but it still felt wrong to throw out something so precious. Somebody had went through the effort to write a letter (in a foreign language no less) and now it sat in a heaping pile in a garbage centre ready to be compiled in a landfill. He couldn't imagine if Yuuri had done that to him. 

"Shut up, Victor! I don't need your guilt. Just open your letter and leave me alone!”

He grabbed for his water that teetered on the edge of the boards, taking a swig from the plastic bottle. It was almost endearing to see Yuri so distraught (much like a child who was having a fit), but Victor knew better than to comment on how adorable he looked when he was angry. 

"Alright," Victor agreed with little resistance. 

He pulled out his set of keys from the front pocket of his trench coat. There were at least four different set of keys alongside two key chains with pictures of his precious dog. He picked out an old key to his locker that was beginning to dull before grazing its edge under the flaps of the envelope. He was careful not to ruin the neat packaging Yuuri's letter came in, hoping that he could preserve every little thing from Yuuri. 

Victor noticed the envelope was tightly packed, sparing no empty space in the small envelope. There was a simple letter neatly folded with a small bag of treats taped to the side. He couldn’t exactly tell if the contents were edible - they were bright pastel colours which often meant they were not for consumption - but he supposed it would be clear once he read the letter. He pulled the letter out, unfolding the edges and smoothing out the page so it was legible. 

"It says  _ Dear Viktor _ . Oh he misspelled my name," he mused aloud. 

"Are you really reading this out loud?" Yuri asked with a scowl. 

Victor flashed Yuri a fake smile, the one he had perfected after years of spending endless time in the spotlight. The one where his lips were upturned and only his top teeth were visible.

"Of course," Victor said, trying not to be offended by Yuri. 

Yuri was never supportive of Victor's personal life. He would often scoff at his extravagant lifestyle, but never seemed too interested in his daily life. Victor assumed that he wanted nothing to do with him if it wasn't skating related and for that Victor couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a curse. On the one hand, he wanted to have a personable relationship with Yuri, one that extended further than the rink. Yuri - on most occasions, Victor would argue - was rather pleasurable to be around. On the other, he took solace in Yuri’s indifference towards his personal life. He never asked about Victor’s supposed relationships and never seemed interested in Victor’s rather monotonous routine; and for that, Victor was thankful. He didn’t exactly need his rink mates getting involved in his personal matters since it often ended in some sort of disaster situation. His work life and personal life needed to remain as they were: separate. 

Instead, he tried to think of a more lighthearted topic. "What voice should I do for him? What do you think he sounds like?" 

Victor's mind immediately tried to conjure a perfect voice for Yuuri. He wondered if his voice was smooth like Georgi’s or high like Yuri’s even gruff like Yakov’s. He immediately ruled out his voice having any resemblance to Yakov’s for fear that he would imagine his coach sending these letters to Victor. He ultimately decided his voice was probably more soft and supple than anything. He knew his voice must be angelic, much like a siren calling a sailor out to sea.  

"Maybe you should read it so it's more authentic. You know, from one Yuri to another." Victor thrust the paper into Yuri’s hands. His voice was probably as close to Yuuri’s authentic voice - or the voice Victor imagined for Yuuri - as possible.

Yuri swatted his hand away, leaving a red imprint on the back of Victor's hand.

"Ugh, I'd rather die than read it," he declared dramatically. 

"Fine, then I'll just have to continue."

Yuri clicked his tongue but didn't provide any more snarky remarks. 

" _ This letter isn't for credit anymore so I can write in English, if that's okay with you. My Russian is really poor and I would be more comfortable writing in English. Plus, I can even help you with your grammar _ ." 

He turned to Yuri, flashing him a heart-shaped smile. "Yuuri is so thoughtful.” 

"Just keep reading so I don't have to listen to you anymore," Yuri demanded. 

Victor rolled his eyes. He knew Yuri was just as interested in the letter as he was, latching onto every last detail, even if he did deny it. This would be the most exciting event in Yuri's life aside from the Junior Grand Prix Finals. Okay, maybe that was an overstatement (Yuri probably had other important events in his life), but Yuuri's letter did bring some form of entertainment to Yuri's boring routine. And, if Victor was being honest, Yuuri's letter brought all of the wonder in his own cyclical routine. He would wake up, go to the rink for seven hours, come home, sleep, and repeat the same cycle for years on end. Sure it was monotonous and tedious, but it seemed to suffice.

The cycle only seemed to change during competitions when going to the rink for seven hours was replaced with competing for seven hours. 

Now, he had something that could break the monotony. It wasn't much - just a simple letter - but it was enough. He finally had something to look forward to and for the first time, Victor felt alive again. 

" _ I am fluent in Japanese so I can help you. Here are some basic phrases. こんにちは (pronounced kon'nichiwa) means hello.  _

_ さようなら (pronounced sayōnara) means goodbye. I don’t really know what else I should teach you. Are there any specific phrases you'd like to know _ ?" 

"Wow Yuuri is so amazing and thoughtful," he gushed. 

He clutched the paper close to his heart, hoping that by some miracle the piece of paper could communicate his affection to Yuuri. He wanted nothing more than to hug his pen pal and whisper him praise until he truly believed how wonderful he was.

"You and I must have different concepts about amazing," Yuri muttered under his breath. 

"Anyways," he continued, choosing to ignore Yuri's harsh comment. He wouldn't be deterred by a teenager's snide remarks about his new friend. He was probably just jealous because his pen pal wasn't as wonderful as Yuuri was. 

" _ Its funny. That was first time I've written Japanese in a while is for a Russian assignment. Right now, I am far from home but I haven't been back home in four years,”  _

Victor turned towards Yuri, hoping that comment could draw out some sort of sympathetic response from his rinkmate. 

"Four years? Can you imagine?" Victor asked to no one in particular. 

He couldn't imagine being away from St. Petersburg for more than a few months. He had grown up in the city and would most likely die in this city, if he were being honest. To know that someone was so far from home, by choice, seemed outrageous to Victor.  

"Wouldn't care if you left for four years," Yuri muttered under his breath. 

Victor chuckled and rested his head in his hands. This banter - banter directed at Victor - he could happily handle. He knew Yuri's comments towards him were all purely playful. He knew those words held no real malice aside from a petty rivalry Yuri created in his own mind. But as playful as his tone was, he wasn't so sure about his rather rude comments directed at Yuuri. Yuri had no reason to hate Yuuri, aside from an extension of the disdain he had for Victor, Or maybe it some sort of teenage angst that came from him having to grow up too early. Or maybe it was as simple as Yuri being envious that he shared a name with someone else in Victor’s life. Regardless, he had no true reason to say such comments about Victor's pen pal, especially since he didn’t know him aside from a few words in a letter.

" _ I included a picture of my hometown _ ." 

Victor eagerly reached inside the thick enveloping, grabbing a small Polaroid photo that was included in the envelope. The picture was old and was definitely not from this century judging by its grainy details and poor lighting choice (or maybe it was just some sort of aesthetic that was popular nowadays). Victor noted that the picture must have been taken in spring considering the abundance of pink cherry blossom leaves that scattered the trees and ground. At the center of the photo was a Japanese style castle sitting atop a rolling hillside. The castle had two goldfish creatures on top that Victor could only assume were some sort of decoration which reflected into the water below. It looked like it was straight out of one of those Japanese cartoons his friends watched and tried to convince Victor to join. 

Underneath the photo were the words  _ Hasetsu, 1998 _ followed Japanese characters Victor was unfamiliar with. It was probably a typical Japanese town by the sea - nothing too unique about it aside from the castle - but Victor yearned to visit Hasetsu. 

"Look at this place!" he raved. His eyes glazed over the photo, memorizing the smallest details of the picture as if it would the moment his eyes left the photograph. "I want to visit! When I'm in Japan for the Finals, I will visit. Do you think it's close to Fukuoka?" 

He wanted nothing more than to see the town for himself, wanted to . He truly hadn't felt this motivated in years, not since his first Olympic Games if he were being honest. His goal had always been to win the Grand Prix Finals for the fifth consecutive time. What better than to do it so close to Yuuri’s hometown?

"Who says you'll make it this year," Yuri pointed out. 

Victor scoffed at that. He knew Yuri was just trying to rile up the older skater. He had made the Final since he was a Junior, medalling at all of his senior competitions with gold medals at four. There was absolutely no reason he wouldn't make it this year. He was the current champion, after all. 

However, there was a growing feeling that Yuri could be right. His routines didn't seem to have the same passion in them as when he had first started skating. It was entirely possible that last season could have been his peak. Nobody had expected a twenty six year old to break world records; many skaters never even made it past twenty five competitively before retiring.

There was a chance that he wouldn’t make it to the finals. He could easily get injured, one wrong move could force him into early retirement like so many other skaters who had continued long last their prime. Or maybe the judges could hate his new performances claiming it to be uninspired and grade him low on his execution. Or maybe he would get fed up with being in the spotlight and simply quit before the competitions even began. 

He quickly erased those negative thoughts from his mind. He knew he had to make it to the finals. 

"Now I have a reason to work extra hard! I can see where Yuuri's from when I make it!" 

"Isn't that a bit creepy? You don't even know him." 

Victor blinked twice. He hadn't even thought about how he must have sounded to anyone else. He wanted to visit a town in the middle of nowhere Japan just because someone who had talked to him lived there at one point. He was all about to give up ice skating to meet some guy he barely knew. But he did know him, a bit. He knew he was sweet and thoughtful and absolutely alluring. He wanted nothing more than to meet him, just once. 

"But I want to! I want to know everything about him. He sounds so cool from his letters." 

Victor was truly in awe over Yuuri. No one else was able to capture his attention for as long as he had. In just two letters, he felt like he knew Yuuri. He could tell Yuuri was rather shy but had his own inviting appeal. He knew that he liked dogs and knew three different languages. Not to mention that he wrote the most beautiful letters he would ever receive. 

"Don't get your hopes up. He's probably a weirdo or someone trying to scam you." Victor scowled, annoyed that Yuri had assumed anything about his penpal. He had barely listened to half of a letter and already had negative opinions about Yuuri. His pen pal was nothing but kind and it was a shame Yuri couldn’t see it the same way he did. 

"If he was, do you think he would a send me candy?" Victor asked with a smirk. 

"Candy?" Yuri asked, perking up. Yuri had an obvious affinity for candy, or rather anything sweet. It took weeks of Yakov's yelling and help from a dietician to get Yuri to curb his unhealthy eating habits. 

"He said:  _ Thank you so much for sending candy. They were very good! I included my favourite candy. It's konpeito _ .  _ They're little sugar stars. _ " 

Victor took the small bag out from the envelope, examining the contents closely. The packaging was an obnoxiously pastel shade of pink with cartoon animals smiling on the plastic wrapping. Through the clear plastic, Victor could tell the package was filled with sugar cubes that were shaped in jagged stars. It all seemed innocent, albeit a bit unappetizing given its artificial design. 

"Wow! I love them!" Victor gushed. "They're adorable!" 

He opened the sealed package, pulling out two little stars between his index and middle finger. He placed the pink star on his tongue, savoring the taste of the sugary treat. It wasn't overly sweet as he imagined a sugar cube to be and it was surprisingly mild in flavor with just a hint of strawberry. He popped the other one into his mouth, enjoying the sweet taste of the white coloured star on his tongue. He wasn't able to have anything this delicious in quite some time, his strict training diet forbid him anything unhealthy - or, in his opinion, anything with flavor. 

He knew in the back of his mind that he wasn't supposed to eat the treat. His dietitian would surely be disappointed and his coach would surely lecture him for being so careless. Yet in the moment, Victor didn't seem to care about his regiment. Two pieces of candy weren't going to hurt his diet as much as much as his dietician would pretend it did. Besides, he could treat himself once in awhile, especially if that treat was from Yuuri. 

"Want one?" Victor asked. He extended his hand, offering Yuri the open package. 

He eyed the bag suspiciously. "You won't tell anyone?" 

"Not a soul," Victor promised. 

Yuri shyly picked a blue star out of the package and placed it in his mouth. He rolled the candy on his tongue, costing his mouth in the artificial taste of the sugary treat. 

"It's good," Yuri finally said after swallowing the candy.

"I know." Victor looked down at the bag reluctantly. He wanted to devour the entire bag, wanted to taste the sweet sugar on his lips and imagine it was Yuuri’s lips instead of a sugary treat. However, he refrained. 

"Just continue your letter already," Yuri said, his tone lighter than before. 

"Right." 

Victor cleared his throat.  _ You asked what I like to do in my free time. Mostly I play video games and ice skate _ ." 

Victor's eyes read over the statement again. 

Yuuri liked to ice skate. 

"Oh my goodness he likes ice skating!" Victor beamed all but fawning over Yuuri's simple response. Sure, it may have been an overreaction to something as simple as saying one likes to ice skate in their free time - and by no means did his statement conclude that he adored professional figure skating at all. For all Victor knew, Yuuri's so called love of ice skating could have been a simple hobby that he had enjoyed in his spare time. Or even just a poor translation on Victor's part which could have meant something entirely different. He tried not to think about how skating could be that brutish hockey sport that all but mocked the true beauty of the ice. 

He quickly brushed that thought aside. Yuuri wasn't one to like hockey, at least Victor convinced himself of this. 

"It's a match made in heaven," Yuri commented sarcastically. 

"I know, right?" Victor gushed, his smile wide and genuine. 

"Then go marry him already.”

Victor smirked at that notion. He knew Yuri was just being his usual charming self (and by charming he meant the complete opposite of charming). Nevertheless, he did consider Yuri's outlandish proposition. Marrying Yuuri could be a dream come true. Yuuri was everything Victor wanted in a partner: he was nice, he liked dogs, and he liked figure skating. 

It sounded silly - marrying a man he barely knew - but people did that all the time. There was even a ridiculous reality show dedicated to that very premise (not that Victor ever watched The Bachelor in his spare time). And if there was a reality show about something, it definitely couldn't be considered an odd idea at all. 

"I bet he'd love to marry Victor Nikiforov," Victor claimed. "Do you think he knows who I am?" 

For someone who liked ice skating, it wasn't unreasonable to assume that Yuuri knew who he was. It may sound egotistical, but Victor didn't think anyone didn't know who he was, especially someone who was supposedly interested in skating. He was the Four Time World Champion, Two Time Olympian, and practically a household name around the world. Okay, maybe that was an overstatement, but surely who knew anything about figure skating at least knew his name and watched his routines once or twice. 

The thought of Yuuri watching him skate brought an invigorating chill up his spine. 

"Who cares. Just finish you letter so I don't have to hear you anymore. I have practice you know." 

Victor exhaled but complied. " _ Anyways, thank you for the plush. It reminded me of my dog _ ." 

He turned to Yuri. "Oh my goodness Yuuri he has a poodle too!" 

"Or a generic brown dog," the younger skater pointed out. 

Victor shook his head. Leave it to Yuri to be pessimistic about everything. 

"Nope. It has to be a poodle! Poodles have curly hair," he reminded his younger rink mate. 

"Good for him. Now can you please finish the letter?" 

" _ It was nice talking to you. I look forward to your next letter. From, Yuuri _ ." 

Victor was a tad saddened by the almost abrupt ending of the letter. He admired the ending, his eyes memorizing the way Yuuri signed his name. The Y was curved with towards the bottom, the loop extending around the 'I' like a masterpiece. 

"Isn't he wonderful?"

Yuri dramatically placed a finger in his mouth mimicking the motion of gagging. "I swear if you don't shut up about him, I'm gonna vomit." 

"Victor! Yuri! Stop playing around and get warmed up!" Yakov shouted as he entered the ice rink.

Victor exhaled as he shoved the letter into the side pocket of his training bag. He wasn’t about to have an argument with his coach so early in the morning. 

He unceremoniously dropped his training bag on the bench beside him pulling out his pair of skates. They were rather expensive custom pair but it was a small price to pay to have perfectly sculpted skates. The boot was rather boring to look at: a basic black shoe save for the small Russian decal. The most interesting aspect was the gold blade that accentuated the bottom of the skates which we a tad tacky but Victor didn’t seem to care. Personally, he liked how different they were from everyone else’s basic skates. 

He slid his foot into the boot, wiggling his toes to make sure the skate was on correctly. He laced up the skates before teetering over to the ice, carefully balancing himself. He placed his right foot on the ice, basking in the comfort of how effortlessly he seemed to glide on the ice. 

He began with an elementary loop around the outside of the rink, acclimating himself to the conditions of the ice. It was still rather fresh, not yet cut up and full of slush but still a fair bit torn by Yuri’s rather aggressive skating. 

He thought about how Yuuri would like the privacy of such a rink seeing as he was probably used to the terrible conditions of a public rink. He couldn’t even imagine how anyone could skate on such horrible conditions. 

Victor pushed those thoughts aside as he finished his first lap around the rink. He easily passed Yuri who was stretching his leg on the boards as began to gain speed. He could show Yuri how a true senior ice skater warmed up. He extended his right foot forward pushing himself off his right foot, and turning his body in four rotations.

However, he found himself landing on the ice before he could complete the fourth rotation.  

Victor exhaled, his breath a bit strained. He hadn't fallen during a quadruple flip since his injury almost ten years ago and even then it was due to his sprained ankle. He supposed he was getting older and his body would no longer be able to perform such jumps. He only hoped that nobody noticed his fall.

Victor gathered himself off the ice, brushing off a few pieces of ice that clung to his black clothing. He needed some water, a snack, and maybe the entire day off. He certainly wasn’t in the mindset to continue skating. 

"What the fuck was that?" 

Victor winced. He was hoping Yuri was too busy with his own stretches to notice such a fail. He certainly didn’t need a Junior skater to comment on two much of a failure that jump was.

"That was terrible,” he continued.

"Such praise,” he replied, brushing past the younger skater. He grabbed for his guards, placing the teal and blue plastic over his gold blade.

"You popped your quad flip! You're lucky Yakov’s on the phone and didn't see that fucking disaster." 

It hurt but Victor knew Yuri's harsh words were true. 

"I'm distracted. I can't think straight," he confessed in a quiet voice. 

“Distracted? Who are you? Georgi?” Yuri asked with a scoff.

Victor exhaled. He knew his infatuation with Yuuri wasn’t  _ that _  bad, not nearly enough to be compared to Georgi’s obsession with his previous girlfriend. However, it wasn’t like Victor to be distracted. He had never been this careless before but it seemed no matter how hard he tried, his mind continued to dwell on his pen pal. 

"What should I write back?"  

"Why are you bothering me with this?" 

"I'm going to get a snack. Tell Yakov I'll be back,” Victor decided. 

He easily exited the ice, heading towards the vending machines on the far side of the rink. They were usually off limits to professional skaters, seeing as they were filled with sugary snacks, but Victor didn’t seem to care. He supposed the snack could clear his mind of any negative thoughts as well as provide a decent gift for Yuuri.

"What? You can't just leave,” Yuri protested. He followed after Victor, wobbling on the ground without his blade guards.

"I have to pick something up,” Victor said as if it were the most obvious statement in the world. 

"What are you doing?” 

Victor ignored Yuri and reached into his front pockets for any loose change. He shoved a few crumpled rubles into the machine. He easily clicked on A2 (a raspberry flavoured protein bar) and B7 (a package of ptichye moloko). 

"You know you can't have candy. Yakov will kill you if he finds out you're eating shit right before the season."

He watched as the two treats fell to the bottom of the machine. He picked both treats out of the vending machine, taking them in his arms. "It's not for me." 

"For fucks sake. That's what has you distracted? That fucking letter."

"Yes. I don't know what I should get him." 

"Don't get him anything. Why waste your money." 

Victor rolled his eyes. 

"Because I'm a nice person, unlike some people," he quipped. 

"Unlike some people, I put my career before a kid I met through a letter!"

"I'm not letting him affect my career,” he gritted through his teeth. 

"Oh really?" 

Victor paused, biting his lower lip. 

"Cause to me, it looks like your distracting thoughts made you flub your signature move. Get over him before he ruins you like how Eva ruined Georgi last year,” he chastised.

"Don't you have a routine to practice" he asked, deflecting Yuri's comment. He didn’t want to admit Yuri might have been right. 

"You're not listening to me." 

Of course Victor wasn’t listening to him; he was making false accusations about Yuuri. 

He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He wanted nothing more than to slap that smug grin off of Yuri's smug face, even if it did mean hurting a minor.

He crossed his arms over his chest, locking them right above his stomach. "I don't have to listen to you.”

"Don't say I didn't warn you." 

Victor paused, turning on his heel. He bent down, his eyes level with Yuri’s. He wouldn't let his friend be talked about this way by a fourteen year old who didn't have the slightest idea about Yuuri. Victor finally had something besides ice skating that made him happy. Was that enough? 

"Yuuri isn't sabotaging my career," he said, his voice dark. He straightened from his position, easily towering over the Junior skater. “He's helping me. And I should help him in return. I should give him something from Russia. What do you think?"

"Oh, now you want my opinion?" 

"How about a matryoshka?" he asked, his tone light once more. 

"That's cliche as hell." 

"You're right. How about I get him something ice skating related.”

"You're still talking to me? Go annoy someone else.” 

Victor looked around the rink, hoping to find someone else who could relate to him. He could always complain to Yakov but he was certain he would only chastise him for not practicing like he was supposed to. He could have easily called up his friend Christophe but he supposed it might have been too early to bother him with something so trivial. Lucky for him, one of the other skaters had walked in. 

"Mila, Yuri is being mean to me," Victor complained. 

"Don't drag Mila into this," Yuri argued. 

"Drag me into what?" Mila asked. 

Mila Babicheva was one of the new female skaters training under Yakov. Victor didn’t know much about her aside from her very impressive skating record; and if he was being honest, he didn’t need to know much more. This year would be her second year in the senior division but Victor had no doubt she would continue for many seasons. She had won silver at the World Championship, losing only to the reigning champion Sara Chrispino. 

Victor knew she had her own sort of charm. She wasn’t built like most traditional female ice skaters: she tended to keep her red hair short and her muscles toned. But despite her unconventional appearance, she was sophisticated and graceful on the ice. Truth be told, Victor admired her for that. 

"Victor got a letter from his pen pal," Yuri explained.

"That's so sweet!" Mila gushed. 

Her enthusiasm made Victor's cheeks flush ever so slightly.

"What's the problem?" she asked as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Problem? There's no problem," Victor defended. It was obvious to every that he was flustered by the slight crack in his voice. 

"Oh really?" Mila asked arching her eyebrow. 

Victor sighed in defeat. He knew he couldn't hide anything from Mila; she would always find out in the end anyways. Besides, he she was very experienced with relationships and could provide him with some useful advice. 

"I want to make my letter perfect for him but I don't know how," Victor confessed.

"Alright, I'll have to teach you how to be the best pen pal, after me of course."

"You have a pen pal too?" Victor asked. His eyes sparkled at the mere thought that someone else was sharing the same experience he was. To think that Mila understood how exhilarating it was to send handwritten letters and the absolute torture it was to wait for one in return. Victor couldn’t be more thankful. 

"Yeah, Yakov signed me up too," she said, less enthusiastic than Victor expected. 

He would have assumed Mila would be ecstatic about joining the pen pal program, but she seemed rather disinterested. He supposed it must have been due to Mila’s poor English skills compared to him.  

"I can't pronounce his name though,” she continued. “Phichit. How do you even pronounce that? Phi-cheet? Pi-chart? I don't know. I’m just glad we talk mostly on Instagram now."

"Wow! You got his social media accounts? I'm so jealous!" Victor admitted. 

He had wanted to ask Yuuri for his social media accounts seeing as it would be an easier way to talk to his pen pal without waiting for the sluggish mail to deliver. However, something felt entirely wrong using social media platforms to connect with his pen pal. He didn’t exactly feel comfortable including his social media accounts feeling that it would seem like a cheap tactic to gain more followers. 

Anyways, he liked remaining anonymous; there was something so genuine about being just ‘Viktor’. Viktor the pen pal could be anyone without the expectations that Victor the world famous ice skater. It seemed more and more that Yuuri was the only person he could be himself around. He wouldn't compromise his anonymity just so he didn’t have to wait as long. Besides, he secretly liked the novelty of receiving handwritten letters. 

"What can I say? I'm an expert at making friends," she bragged. She flipped her red hair over her shoulder theatrically. 

Victor's eyes widened. Mila would be the perfect person to get advice about writing a letter to Yuuri. He didn’t know why he hadn’t asked before. 

"Think you can help me with Yuuri?" 

"Of course. Yuuri will be no match for my womanly charms,” she bragged.

Yuri snorted.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Mila asked, turning towards Yuri. 

Yuri huffed but walked away regardless.

"Thanks Mila! Let me grab some paper!" 

Victor rummaged through his duffel bag, searching through his belongings for his fancy paper. He always kept a few sheets in case fans demanded an autograph, but now he found a better purpose for the paper. 

Victor placed the paper on his lap and uncapped his ball point pen. "Okay. I'm ready."

"We'll start with a good introduction. Say something like  _ Dear Yuuri _ ." 

Victor stuck out his tongue. Dear Yuuri was boring and basic, something people wrote to their dying aunt. He needed to write something more dramatic, something that would keep Yuuri invested in writing letters back to him. 

"How about  _ My dearest Yuuri _ ?"

My dearest Yuuri. 

Victor liked how that sounded. He wished one day to say those words to him. He wanted to see how his face would flush at the mere compliment, his cheeks turning a bright red shade that would extend to the tips of his ears. He wanted to see how he would sputter incoherently, trying to find the right words to say before planting a kiss on his cheek affectionately. He wondered how his soft, pink lips would feel on brushing against his skin. 

"Too much?" he asked, trying to gauge Mila's reaction. 

He knew he often came off too strong - much like an excitable dog - especially around people he liked. It often deterred his dates, saying that he wasn't exactly the mysterious bachelor the media dressed him up to be but rather an excitable child that was hardly a compatible romantic partner. He didn't want Yuuri to think he was annoying or irritating. 

"No, it's sweet," she assured him with a genuine smile. "But you're missing a comma after dearest." 

"Ah, yes. Of course!" he agreed, adding a comma between dearest and Yuuri. "Now what should I say?"  

"We’ll just say something about what he sent you."

"Okay." 

He unfolded the letter he received from Yuuri, scanning the words in hopes that he could find something to write about. 

" _I love your hometown. It is very cute! I would love to visit it one day!_ _Also, thank you for candy. It was very sweet. I also got candy. It is coffee flavoured,”_ he wrote in the neatest handwriting he could muster. He bet Yakov would be proud of his penmanship. Sure, it was a bit uneven and some of the letters were almost illegible in his version of English cursive, but it was the best he could write in a foreign language.  

"What should I say now?" 

"Ask him all the basic stuff. You know, favourite color, favourite flower, favourite television show?" 

Victor agreed with Mila’s reasoning. He should stick basic questions before asking anything too personal. After all, he was curious about Yuuri's favourite colour.

" _ I want to know everything about you! What is favourite flower? What is favourite color? _ " 

He turned towards Mila, waiting for her approval. "What do you think?" 

She glanced down at the paper, scanning over his writing for any minor mistakes. "Sounds good. Now talk about something you like.”

" _ Also, you like ice skating. I love ice skating! I love feeling cold. I want to skate with you one day _ ." 

He smiled, imaging what it would be like to skate with his pen pal. He imagined Yuuri to be a rather amateur ice skater, and in comparison to Victor everyone was a rather amateur ice skater . He imagined he would have to lace up his rented skates correctly, making sure it was right enough to mold around his foot but not too tight that it would be uncomfortable. The two would take to the ice and he would be amazed by Victor's fluidity, wondering if he was a professional. Victor would perform a simple single jump, just to show off that he was in fact professional. He imagined Yuuri would attempt to copy his waltz jump, claiming the jump could be rather easy, before falling on his bottom. He would be flustered, not giving up until he could land the jump, shaking and wobbling but still landing upright. He would then ask to hold Victor's hand so he couldn’t embarrass himself further as they lazily looped around the ice rink. The two would tear up the ice until the moon would rise and their faces were numb. It would be the perfect first date - or rather meeting, definitely not a romantic date. 

“Now end it.”

" _ Until your next letter.Yours truly, Viktor. _ " 

He wanted to sign his last name, he truly did - he had debated on adding it when he had first written his letter - but a part of him enjoyed the anonymity. He didn't need to live up to anyone's expectations when writing Yuuri a letter. Instead, he could embody the person of Viktor. Viktor was just an average 26 year old Russian who into participating into a pen pal program to improve his poor English. 

"It sounds like a love letter," Mila joked, chuckling into her hands. 

Victor blinked twice, his eyes scanning over the letter, critiquing his word choice. He may have been a bit too forward by basically inviting him for an ice skating date. And was it really necessary to ask for Yuuri’s favourite flower? 

He shook those thoughts from his mind, hoping to forget any notion that he was in love with Yuuri. It was a ridiculous thought, wasn’t it? Loving Yuuri? How absolutely absurd. 

Yet every letter seemed to have  Victor falling harder for someone an ocean away. He supposed it someone could call it an interest, but his feelings for Yuuri could hardly be simplified as an interest. There was something more passionate, more intimate than a pure interest. Maybe more of an infatuation but that sounded just a bit too obsessive, much like some sort of fanboy obsessing over an idol.

No, Mila was right, it was love.

And as embarrassing as it was to say, he was absolutely smitten by Yuuri. Just the thought him brought a pink hue to his cheeks. It was so cliche, like something out of a high school romance: Victor Nikiforov had a crush on his pen pal. 

However, the rational part of his brain reminded him that he barely knew Yuuri aside from a few trivial facts that were hardly indicative of who Yuuri truly was. He had a dog that was probably a poodle, he lived in Japan but was now living in America, and he liked ice skating. That was hardly enough information to say that he surely loved Yuuri. He didn’t know if he wanted to be the big spoon or if he was a virgin or if he was attracted to men at all. 

That thought left a sour taste in his mouth. He was not about to get his hopes up about someone he had yet to truly meet. 

He snatched the letter and shoved the paper into his training bag before Mila could judge him further. It was her idea anyways to include such romantic questions, anyways.

"That's just how every letter sounds.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment/kudos! They really make my day!  
> Also, I wanted to thank [@justahumblepotato](https://justahumblepotato.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for being my beta for this chapter!! Thank you for editing this chapter!
> 
> Even more things about this AU:  
> -Victor is Victor Nikiforov and Viktor is the pen pal or Victor's new letter persona.  
> -Victor definitely feels conflicted not telling Yuuri who he is, but he liked the anonymity for now so he never corrected him for mispelling his name.  
> -I know it seems super sudden, but after two (albeit super basic) letters, Victor definitely feels some sort of connection to Yuuri. Whether it's actually love or just a projection, you'll have to decide ;)  
> -Yuuri's letters are definitely becoming less basic while Victor is going full on romantic asking what Yuuri's favourite flower is. (For reference, it's an orchid or a blue rose because I'm too predictable).  
> -Slowly, his written English is getting better because he definitely went online to practice in his free time just to impress Yuuri.  
> -Victor isn't really close to anyone at the rink, except maybe Yuri but he sees him more as a younger brother than a friend. He doesn't hate Mila because he admires her determination but doesn't have many conversations with her that aren't about skating or her relationships. And Georgi, well he tends to ignore Georgi. Mostly because he isn't interested with him and partially because he doesn't want to hear him talk about his love life.  
> -Yes, Victor does have a strict dietician, as do all of the skaters at the rink. He also has a specific costume designer and personal fitness trainer but is the only skater who doesn't have a choreographer.  
> -And here comes Yuri! Yuri is pen pals with JJ because I think that would be hilarious. Yes, Yuri did throw out JJ's letter and probably will never write back. We'll see if JJ gets the hint or not.  
> -I love writing Yuri more angsty than in the show! Yuri is only 14 and thinks he's invincible in the Junior Division. He is definitely the voice of reason!  
> -And now Mila has made her first appearance! Mila is pen pals with Phichit but just talks over instagram which may or may not be important in the future.  
> -In this AU, Victor is a virgin (and Yuuri is not). I don't know why but I totally see the media thinking that because he's single, he's just screwing around with everyone which couldn't be further from the truth!  
> -He's definitely been on a lot of dates and even been in relationships but somehow they never seem to work out, mostly because people have such different perspectives about him than who he truly is.  
> -He's also been in an extremely short romantic relationship with Chris before realizing that they certainly aren't meant to be together and are better off as friends. Although, the media (and fans) continuously ship them together.  
> -I personally headcanon Victor as pansexual and Yuuri as bisexual. It probably won't come up, but just some fun trivia!  
> -Next chapter will be in Yuuri's POV again! For some reason, I find his POV easier to write...
> 
> Please follow my tumblr [@vodkawrites](http://vodkawrites.tumblr.com) for more updates and previews under the #FHWC tag!
> 
> See you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments/kudos if you liked! Also, I would love to hear any ideas you have for this AU!  
> Follow my tumblr [@vodkawrites](http://vodkawrites.tumblr.com) for more updates, art, and other yuri!!! on ice content!!


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